*Puts on X Factor voice* “Introducing the show-stopping, jaw-dropping awe-inspiring….Great POOOOOOO-DINI! You will be astounded that she can remove her pyjama bottoms without removing her sleeping bag! You will gasp as she wriggles and jives to free her legs! You will be entranced when you realise that she escaped from her nappy. Your feeling of delight at these amazing feats will quickly disappear when you discover in the bottom of the sleeping bag…a big squashed poo. A round of applause for the Great Poo-dini! Now that’s magic!” (Except it’s a horrific reality for me.)
Talking about magic, I ordered some cheap accessories and a dress to wear to a fancy dress party. It was an ‘M’ party. Mr TMAOT went as a magician (because it’s the least effort) and I was going as a magician’s assistant (because as we all know from ‘Mean Girls’ it’s just an excuse for girls to look a bit trashy and no one can say anything). Only a magician’s assistant tends to wear REALLY skimpy little things. ‘No problem!’ I decided. I can wear a cheap and nasty sequined dress (tenner on Amazon), a cloak (not sure if they wear cloaks, but it helps hide my backside) and a pair of long evening gloves (to add a bit of class). The whole outfit was a bit of a mish-mash and didn’t make any sense when I wasn’t standing next to someone holding a rabbit and a wand. (It was the same when I worked for Ann Summers! *titters at own joke*.) The dress arrived. It appeared that they had made a mistake. Instead of the dress covering my boobs AND my bum, apparently I had to CHOOSE which end of me to cover up. Either that or they have accidently sent a child’s dress. Not sure how many children require strapless sequined dresses though?
Except for the tenuous link of magic, I realise that the above two paragraphs have no real connection other than they are things that happened in my life recently. What they do-do (more poop humour there for you) is highlight the extremes of being a Mummy who still wants to be ME once in a while. It’s like I lead a secret double life. Just like Peter Parker and Spiderman. During the day I clean poo out of sleeping bags and by night (well, the occasional Saturday) I dress up like a tramp. Ahem, I mean ‘Magician’s assistant.’
Or maybe I’ve got it all wrong – maybe my identity IS the Magician’s assistant? *Big thunder clap sound effect* To the Great Poo-dini! Behold! The poo was sat at the bottom of a sleeping bag and then ‘Abracadabra!’ (With the help of a lots of baby wipes and a washing machine). Poof! It was gone. (I think they call this last paragraph ‘The Prestige’!) Ta da! *Takes bow to uproarious applause*